Entry tags:
Was That a No? [SUICA CYCLE002 -- Free Month!]
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Characters/Pairing: Finstock, Stiles, gen
Rating: G
Word Count: 478
Synopsis: The path to winning a high school lacrosse game was a long, uphill road, but Finstock was always on the lookout for shortcuts. [add-on to![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
roguemariel's fic No.]
The first lacrosse game that employed Bilinski’s miracle perfume was a huge success.
At first, Finstock had been a little dubious--after all, there hadn’t been much of a difference in the players’ behaviour during practice--and he had almost resolved not to bother with the stuff, but when three members of the starting line called out sick on the day of the game, the odds had fallen so far out of their favour that there was really nothing to do but mutter a prayer, spray the boys down, and hope Bilinski wasn’t as stupid as he looked.
About half way through the first quarter, Finstock turned to kid and told him sincerely, “You’re a genius, Bilinski! I’ve never seen so much passion before!”
Bilinski, who was thankfully still contained to the bench, turned to face him and managed a weak smile, looking a little green. Poor kid.
The game had started out mild enough, with the teams exchanging the usual jibes, when suddenly the opposing team appeared to make some sort of scent-orientated comments, based on the way they were laughing and waving their hands in front of their noses. Finstock’s boys went red in the face and looked so generally mortified that Finstock had actually started to make his way over when his team gritted their teeth and exchanged stiff nods. Finstock remembered those murderous expressions from his own happy days in high school sports, so he thought, “Let’s see,” and took a step back.
“Uh, Coach?” asked Bilinski as they watched the game progress. “I feel like I should know the answer to this already, but just to make sure… lacrosse isn’t usually supposed to contain this much actual carnage, is it?”
Kids these days. Finstock blamed it on bad influences from TV. All those damn shows about friendship and magic.
“Bilinski,” replied Finstock, pausing briefly to dodge an airborne shin guard. “This is how lacrosse was meant to be played.”
The game ended in an overwhelming victory for Beacon Hills High, of course, and as they carried an injured teammate from the field, Finstock turned to Bilinski to ask, “Where did you say you bought that?”
--
“I’m sorry, we’re out of that brand of perfume at the moment,” the sales clerk found herself saying yet again. “Can I interest you in another product?”
The high schoolers in front of her shook their heads, clearly frustrated. “No, it has to be that one. Can you order it for us?”
“Yes, but I’m not sure when it’ll get in. When do you need it?”
“Before the next lacrosse game our school plays,” the boys said seriously. “It’s part of our uniform now.”
Characters/Pairing: Finstock, Stiles, gen
Rating: G
Word Count: 478
Synopsis: The path to winning a high school lacrosse game was a long, uphill road, but Finstock was always on the lookout for shortcuts. [add-on to
roguemariel's fic No.]The first lacrosse game that employed Bilinski’s miracle perfume was a huge success.
At first, Finstock had been a little dubious--after all, there hadn’t been much of a difference in the players’ behaviour during practice--and he had almost resolved not to bother with the stuff, but when three members of the starting line called out sick on the day of the game, the odds had fallen so far out of their favour that there was really nothing to do but mutter a prayer, spray the boys down, and hope Bilinski wasn’t as stupid as he looked.
About half way through the first quarter, Finstock turned to kid and told him sincerely, “You’re a genius, Bilinski! I’ve never seen so much passion before!”
Bilinski, who was thankfully still contained to the bench, turned to face him and managed a weak smile, looking a little green. Poor kid.
The game had started out mild enough, with the teams exchanging the usual jibes, when suddenly the opposing team appeared to make some sort of scent-orientated comments, based on the way they were laughing and waving their hands in front of their noses. Finstock’s boys went red in the face and looked so generally mortified that Finstock had actually started to make his way over when his team gritted their teeth and exchanged stiff nods. Finstock remembered those murderous expressions from his own happy days in high school sports, so he thought, “Let’s see,” and took a step back.
“Uh, Coach?” asked Bilinski as they watched the game progress. “I feel like I should know the answer to this already, but just to make sure… lacrosse isn’t usually supposed to contain this much actual carnage, is it?”
Kids these days. Finstock blamed it on bad influences from TV. All those damn shows about friendship and magic.
“Bilinski,” replied Finstock, pausing briefly to dodge an airborne shin guard. “This is how lacrosse was meant to be played.”
The game ended in an overwhelming victory for Beacon Hills High, of course, and as they carried an injured teammate from the field, Finstock turned to Bilinski to ask, “Where did you say you bought that?”
--
“I’m sorry, we’re out of that brand of perfume at the moment,” the sales clerk found herself saying yet again. “Can I interest you in another product?”
The high schoolers in front of her shook their heads, clearly frustrated. “No, it has to be that one. Can you order it for us?”
“Yes, but I’m not sure when it’ll get in. When do you need it?”
“Before the next lacrosse game our school plays,” the boys said seriously. “It’s part of our uniform now.”